The craziest thing. I am up late reading a book of various poetry. I read one poem , then I flip the page. The next poem is called "Poem to Be Read at 3 A.M." by Donald Justice. I laugh knowing its late, and look over at my alarm clock which reads 3:o2 am. (It really was only about 2:40, but I keep my alarm clock 25 minutes ahead to trick myself into thinking I have more time in the morning.) I happen across a poem meant to be read at 3 am, and it is basically, 3 am. The words even seem to be written for me as I sit upstairs in my bed.
Except the diner
On the outskirts
The town of Ladora
At 3 A.M.
Was dark but
For my headlights
And up in
One second-story room
A single light
Where someone
Was sick or
Perhaps reading
As I drove past
At seventy
Not thinking
This poem
Is for whoever
Has the light on
It was me! I have a light on, and I am reading. Was it you driving past at seventy?
